


The times we spend together

by NikaAnuk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Drug Addiction, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Young Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I started to write for Gwydion some time ago and lately I writed something bit longer so I'm posting it here.<br/>Lestrade's and Sherlock's first meeting. You can read my Desperate Times  but it's not requested. It's just the same verse. Probably I'll continue this in some time. Probably...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The times we spend together

The first time Gregory met Mycroft was not nice. Not at all. He remembered the day – it was one of the really rainy, awful Mondays and he had just stopped an investigation because some odd lunatic, high as the March Hare started to shout about evidence and tried to get onto the crime scene. Lestrade wanted to calm his people down, he grabbed the young by the arm – very thin – and looked him into the eyes – his pupils were huge and his eyes were dark. He was pale as death, his face looked almost like a skull. He grabbed Greg's jacket and leaned on the man.  
„Thirty-two, divorced, second wife, two kids, on the edge of alcoholism” the young said quickly. „Didn't sleep in two days, few hours on the couch broke by thoughts and a bottle of Jack Daniels. You know they will fire you if they find out but you can't help yourself, alcohol helps to escape the questions...” The man stopped. „I can help you” he added.  
And just then Lestrade was aware of the rain, people around them and a black car which stopped nearby. He swallowed feeling cold shiver down his spin. Everything the young man said was true...  
“I'm sorry, Inspector” he heard and looked up. There was a tall man in a coat standing under a black umbrella. “I'm afraid my dear brother caused a little problem. Please, accept my apologies and let me take him home” he said politely and grabbed the young man's arm. “Come on, Sherlock...”  
“Sod of!” the man called Sherlock wrested his arm from the grip. “I'm gonna help them. They are a bunch of idiots...”  
“I doubt it Sherlock. The man wouldn’t work with a junkie. Am I right, officer?” the man looked at Lestrade. So did Sherlock. Greg felt weird being watched by the two men. Eventually he nodded.  
“It's against the rules” he admitted.  
The younger man scoffed.  
“But you won't get him!” he shouted.  
“Now, now, my dear” Sherlock's brother said. “We're going home.”  
This time he dragged the young one to the car, big, dark eyes fixed on Lestrade. The door shut and the car drove away, and Lestrade still felt this cold.  
“Who was that?” Donovan asked standing next to him.  
He shook his head and shifted his hands into his pockets.  
“No idea. Come on.”  
“I know the man” she said. “Mycroft Holmes. But the second one?” she sighed and smiled at Lestrade. “The break is over?”  
“Yeah, tell everyone.” he chuckled.

He could not forget the men and the next day after a visit at home – to change and keep an eye at Dolores while his wife took Brandon to school.  
“I thought you're off today, chief” Donovan raised her head from the papers.  
“No, not until we catch the killer.” He looked at the picture board. “The man yesterday” he started. “You've said you know him?”  
“Holmes? Sure” she nodded. “He's a big fish, no particular reason, people don't know a lot about him but my ex was a lawyer and he said that when the case is about Holmes, people stop talking.”  
Lestrade nodded and turned to the door.  
“I'll go to check something” he said and left.  
Donovan looked at his back curiously but did not say anything.

Just then he had a chat with Mycroft Holmes in private for the first time. It was not hard to find the name so he went to his office and asked for the man, one glance at his badge convinced his secretary to call the main office. Few seconds later the door opened and a young woman smiled at him.  
“Inspector Lestrade?” he said politely. “Please” she showed the place behind the door.  
Giving the secretary one more smile he followed the young woman.  
The office was a great place, full of books with a small coffee table, two armchairs and a great desk by the window. Mycroft Holmes was standing behind the desk leaning over it casually.  
“Good morning, Inspector” he greeted him with a smile. “Thank you, Anthea, I'll ask you if I need anything.”  
She nodded and left the room by the side door.  
“I hope I didn't interrupt you, sir.” Lestrade said stopping in the middle of the room.  
“Not at all, Inspector, please, sit down” the man offered pointing at one of the armchairs. He sat in the other one. “How can I help you?”  
“You know that the investigation in the case of the last four murders is in progress, currently we're looking for more witnesses...”  
“Because you have no idea about who the murderer is” Mycroft crossed his legs elegantly. “You know there will be another victim but you don't know where to start... No, don't bother” he raised his hand. “It's obvious.”  
Lestrade tensed in irritation and felt he was blushing what irritated him even more.  
“Well” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to see you brother, Sherlock.”  
The man raised his eyebrow.  
“Sherlock? Inspector Lestrade, I don't know what he told you but I assure you...”  
“I'm not interested in your assurances, I need to talk to him.”  
Mycrot's eyes darkened.  
“I'm sorry but I can't let you see him. It's a private matter, he's not well.”  
“I saw him yesterday” Lestrade agreed. “Sir” he stood up. “I know who you are and how powerful you are but please, believe me, there are ways to tell everyone about your brother's addiction. That would be unwelcome, don't you think?”  
Mycroft Holmes cocked his head watching Inspector carefully. The man was threatening him... Mycroft smiled, he would have even laughed but that would be impolite. It was the first time someone threatened him so openly in years.  
“Fine” he got up and walked to the desk. He pressed a button on the intercom and called Anthea. The woman came in silently. “Take Inspector Lestrade to Sherlock, he has some questions for my dear brother” he said.  
She nodded and opened the door for Lestrade. He looked at Mycroft a bit surprised. He was not doing this because he was afraid of him, they both knew that but none of them spoke. Lestrade nodded and walked out followed by Anthea.

They got into the car and she took out z phone and soon forgot about the man. The driver did not ask for anything just started the engine and soon they were going through the city. The way took them almost half an hour and they stopped not before a great building made of metal and glass or a very elegant housing estate – as Lestrade presumed – just in front of an ugly block of flats. The woman got out of the car and she walked into the building taking keys out of her pocket. She opened the door and when Lestrade joined her she went in.  
They walked to the third floor where Anthea – again – opened the door. When she has done it Geg felt an odour and he wrinkled his nose.  
“What the...?” He looked at her but she only waited.  
Taking deep breath he stepped into the flat.  
It was a small place, with two tiny rooms – almost empty – the kitchen and the bedroom. They were bottles everywhere, few syringes, newspapers and a lot of rotten food. The first room was empty but dirty, in the second one there was a mattress on the floor and Sherlock's coat folded on the back of a single chair. Sherlock himself was sitting at the table in the kitchen. He was even more pale, dark curls were messy, he looked at the wall with glassy eyes. The mug of cold tea between his hands.  
“My God...” whispered Gregory.  
Was Mycroft Holmes so insane to give him the gun against himself? If any of this came out of this place he would have been so done!  
Sherlock smiled a little.  
“You came” he said, his voice quiet and rough. “Leave” he added and to Lestrade's surprise Anthea left them without a word. Greg turned to her and only saw as she close the door behind herself and locked them. He then looked back at Sherlock. He was watching him now.  
“You were at home, took a shower, she took the older child to school, the younger was still home, you talked to him and left when she came back. You didn't talk to her, you left without a word, you know she's cheating on you” he said. There was nothing left of his yesterday's excitement, he was talking slower and more quiet.  
“How can you tell?” Lestrade frowned.  
Sherlock stood up very slowly and came closer to the inspector. Greg tensed as the younger man broke his private space.  
“I can smell your shower gel” he said. “You still have wet hair” he raised his head to touch the back of Lestrade's neck. “You had time to shave” a light touch on his cheek. He moved his hand back and passed Lestrade into the smaller room where the mattress was.  
After a second Greg followed him and saw him sitting down on the floor. He started to look for something and soon he picked one of the papers. He raised his hand and Greg took it from him. It was an announcement column, one of the advertisements was marked with a red circle. Before he could read it Sherlock gave him another page of the newspaper, again with an advertisement in a circle. Three pages later Sherlock moved onto the matters and just lied down cuddling into a small ball.  
Gregory read what he had – advertisements about a found bag, about a meeting and about a lost bag... No. It was lost, found, meeting... Then there was a question why the other person did not show up and finally another meeting.  
“What are those?” he asked Sherlock.  
“Your murderer and the person who paid him.”  
Gregory felt a cold shiver down his spine again.  
“What?”  
“It's a code, Lestrade. The money someone got for killing four men. And there will be another one.”  
“When? Where?”  
“Tomorrow on the London Bridge, around eleven pm” he explained.  
Gregory put his hand into his pocked to get the phone but it was not there. He checked the second one and then he saw Sherlock who turned to his back with Letrade's phone over his face.  
“Oi, this is mine!” he reached for it and took it away from Sherlock.  
“I gave you the killer, I'm sure I deserve this” he said sulking. When he raised his hands the long sleeves of his dressing gown slipped down uncovering thin pale forearms with blue veins and needle marks. Lestrade turned his gaze away.  
He walked into the kitchen to call Donovan. He had seen Sherlock yesterday and he saw him now – the young one was far from being trustworthy - but Lestrade could not help himself, the way Sherlock watched him and knew everything about him...  
He then came back into the bedroom, Sherlock was lying on the mattress again curled like a ball.  
“How did you do this?” Greg asked showing his phone.  
Sherlock shoot him a look from under his dark curls.  
“Think, Lestrade. You can't be that stupid, can you?”  
And Greg smiled after a second.  
“Yeah, you took it from me... Stupid me” he shook his head.  
“Exactly” Holmes nodded.  
“You shouldn't be that rude, maybe your brother would let you out more often” he said with a chuckle.  
“I'm here because I'm a junkie, Lestrade. Mycroft never lets me go.”  
“You told me yesterday that I won't catch the killer without your help, maybe you were right.” Lestrade shifted his hands into his pockets. “Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to sleep normally when the killed is be finally caught. Thanks to your help” he smiled. Sherlock watched him now very carefully. “I would love to accept your help. But I can't, not if you take drugs. You know what I mean?” he asked.  
Young Holmes nodded slowly.  
“Good. Well then, thanks again and please, come over, okay? I owe you a big pint” he smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair before he left.


End file.
